Broken
by Avaya
Summary: A day in Baird's life without Marcus Fenix. (It's imperative that you read Mind Games and Covert Warfare or this will not make sense).


**_~*~*~_ Broken~*~*~**

* * *

 ** _Fenix Family Suite: 7 A.M. Bounty 24 AE_**

Mornings were more enjoyable to wake up when he shared the bed with his lover. He didn't even need coffee to restart the sputtering gears in his brain. Burrowing his face into his pillow hid him from the blinding sunlight filtering through the windows. More importantly, it also didn't reveal the loving smile on his face.

Any moment now an arm would envelop him followed by a large warm body pressing against his back. Then rough lips would pepper his neck with soft kisses before that wonderful dulcet tone blessed his ears. Blooming with happiness, he'd quiver with ecstasy and nearly erupt with pleasure before leaning back into the embrace, adoring phrases warmly blanketing him like the leg that would soon drape across his thigh.

The arm would tighten around him as well as the boxers firmly pushed against his ass, at least in the groin area. He would feel his own constricting as he turned his head to catch sight of those endless pools of blue. Their breaths would shorten as they watched each other in silence before his lover closed the distance between them. His eyes would flutter shut while the arm restraining him in a way to dictate that he'd _never_ let go trailed down his body, disappearing beneath the bands of his sweatpants.

And then…

"Oh god." He breathed out.

That delectable warmth is there, the one that told of fingers curling around his length. Gentle easy pulls began and he awaited the loving whispers always breathed into his ear. He could never respond though. It's not out of embarrassment or having nothing to say. The tightness in his throat caused by the heaviness in his chest, the undying devotion he had for the man who held him, couldn't be overcome. He expressed his love in gasps and incoherent words that managed to slip out.

He brought a hand behind him to reach between their bodies. He wanted to grab hold of that beautiful hardness that ravished him many times over, just something else that he wouldn't ever be able to get enough of from his man.

He only grabbed air.

Confusion filled him as his eyes snapped open, willing his hand to drop to the sheets to search for…for _something_. What he found was a _cool_ and empty bedside.

He grit his teeth as his nostrils flared, trying to quell the torrent of loneliness developing. Anger flooded in as his vision blurred.

He knew that turning around would confirm what he already knew. But wasn't it possible that his husband was merely just out of reach, at the edge of the king-sized bed, fondly watching him in that infuriatingly _knowing_ way of his just to torture him?

His skin began to heat. That would only make Damon S. Fenix bitch him out furiously. He'd unleash all of the pent up emotions and turmoil he'd suffered over the past month into a string of curses, beginning with a very succinct _Fuck you_ and ending on _Fuck me_.

And then they'd do just that. His husband would take him as he always did: like he couldn't get enough, never wanted to stop, they had all the time in the world. Baird would arch into him while his fingers twisted in the sheets, giving him all that he was, aching for that cock that would appease him like nothing else would and fuck the COG—all he would ever need is the man pummeling his insides furiously.

So he twisted around, having deluded himself in the possibility that perhaps the beast had silently manifested while sleeping beauty rested. What he found was the same sight as a month prior, one that he wouldn't ever get used to.

* * *

 ** _Fenix Family Suite_ _7:30 a.m._**

It's been a struggle. He thought he'd be able to manage without his husband, but certain fortuitous circumstances arose that made him rethink such an enlightening rumination.

Like this.

"When Daddy coming home?"

The question broke into his melancholic thoughts, pulling him into the present momentarily as he threw a wary glance at the clock. His glassy gaze sifted away as he focused on the source with a fierce glare, at first unaware that he hadn't been alone then unable to recognize the child. Soon after, it came to him and immediately he softened his eyes while the other pair widened.

J. D.

His son.

He's having a breakfast of eggs, sausages, and toast with him.

How could he forget? How could he get so out-of-touch? Hadn't they been forcing conversation to keep them from noticing the empty chair beside them? Something in that conversation must have led him to trail off and focus on memories, thoughts, and endless dreamscapes with the same running theme being that of his lover.

" _Daddy_."

The frightened whine alarmed him and it took him less time to acknowledge that he'd slipped away again. A glance at the clock told him he'd lapsed for _eight minutes_. J.D. stared at him with fat tears brimming, ready to cascade down his cheeks.

His response was automatic as he rose from his chair to sweep his son into an embrace. His arms enveloped him, comforting him with warmth and love. His soothing whispers to the face buried against his neck sometimes hitched with barely laced fear.

A trembling quiet voice filters through. "I don' like wha happ'n ta you when Daddy gone."

Baird didn't want to admit that he too hated how he seemed to zombify with the daily lack of Marcus' existence. It wouldn't do well to help his son cope.

Small fingers clutch at him for strength, the small boy quieting as Baird gently sways, rubbing a hand along his back. He finally lifts his head, sniffling a little.

"When Daddy coming home?" comes the soft murmur that clenches his heart.

It's almost too much to get out as he peers into the small sullen face. "Hopefully soon, J.D."

His little son seemed satisfied with the answer

But how long would J.D. be able to be comforted if Baird couldn't comfort himself?

* * *

 ** _Fenix Family Suite 9 a.m._**

" _No_!"

This was yet another instance in which Marcus' appearance would have been greatly appreciated. The tears this time weren't due to a scare, but out of stubbornness and anger.

"I don' _like_ it dere, Daddy!"

He usually handled J.D.'s tantrums with that remarkable stoic patience, answering in a nurturing but stern tone each of his wails. J.D. would scream out a couple of things before his voice growled dangerously in a tone that J.D. knew meant trouble. No way that he'd let their son squeal bloody murder for a goddamn _hour_.

" _Why I haf' ta go_?"

But Baird wasn't patient—he'd lost that battle within the first few minutes of their tango. Now, he ignored the small red-faced child heaving as if he were hyperventilating, the coughing fit whenever he took in too much air, the runny nose that J.D. consistently swiped at with a taut angry fist. He continued to dress J.D. in his favorite green sweater as the latter tried to kick out of his shoes in defiance.

" _Why_?"

Baird didn't answer. He struggled with finding out Marcus' solution to this problem. It seemed almost natural— _he_ is the authoritative figure. A few years ago, Baird would have been as well. But certain events had changed him. He was in no way docile, but more aggressively-tempered and closed off than before.

And… just _tired_.

 _That_ was alarming compared to the Baird he had been before.

" _Why I no stay wit' you?"_

Baird closed his eyes slowly after J.D. had successfully launched a toddler size 6 shoe at a wall. How could J.D. understand that what he was doing was pushing him towards a collapse since it reminded him that he is completely _lost_ without his other half?

It was too late when he recognized it, exhaustion having addled his defenses. When the cruel coldness tapped at the edges of his consciousness, unwilling to await his response after doing so, all he could do was gasp.

 _Fenix Family Suite 10 a.m._

His vision swam as lids parted, churning his gullet. His breathing was fast and heavy. A pounding headache let itself be known immediately, intensifying due to an obnoxious wailing sound so close to him. He felt cold, possibly due to lying on cool tile for an undetermined amount of time. Something kept nudging him, adding to the whirling world that intensified his sickened feeling.

So he closed his eyes. At least he didn't feel like vomiting anymore. And he could think of the one constant in his life that _never_ caused these feelings.

Well. Not anymore.

* * *

 ** _Fenix Family Suite 12:30 p.m._**

Cold lunches of tuna fish sandwiches were had by the three of them. Yes. Three. Not the addition he wanted though.

Baird was too fatigued to protest Miss Ava's insistence that she ensure they both were fine due to the combination of battling a furious toddler and _It_. She had found him lying prone on the floor due to another episode, J.D. sobbing and attempting to wake him up with the small vigorous shakes his little body could provide.

He didn't remember inviting the bitch to lunch with them though. He also didn't give two fucks if she thought that he delved into drugs, letting it display in his eyes as he caught another _very_ obvious glance in his direction.

Though grateful that she decided to search for them when he didn't drop off J.D. at daycare, why couldn't she do what the hell she was paid to do and take his son off his hands for the allotted time? Why did she have to impede on _him_ , as if his son needed to see any more of his suffering? Her presence kept him from dwelling in memories of Marcus which he very much wanted to do _right now_. Perhaps a lengthy sleep would be best so that his dreams could be filled with him. He wouldn't be able to care for J.D. otherwise.

Thinking of…his eyes flitted over to the small figure. J.D. has since quieted, but hasn't looked at him once. A sinking sensation told him that he was failing his son, a circumstance that should be remedied as quickly as possible. An easy one, the best most assuredly, would be the return of their missing person.

But who knew when that would be?

* * *

 ** _New Jacinto Hospital: Kashkur, Anvegad 2:30 p.m._**

 _Click._

"And how are you feeling?" Words spoken in a strained civil tone by an elderly woman.

"Same as always, Doc." A Strong masculine tone laced with boredom. "For the record, I would like to say that this is one of _the_ shittiest ideas that Hoffman came up with. Hope you're listening in, Hoff. This is just another to tack on in a long line of fuck-ups."

"What are you—"

"You'd have no way in knowing about the conversation of fuck-ups, Doc. You weren't privy to it though you _are_ one."

"—blathering about, you sanctimonious _ass_?" A few moments of quiet then a snort. " _I'm_ a fuck-up, he says. I'm not the one with mandatory psych sessions."

"You're in here too. Another fuck-up is whatever deity that doesn't exist which decided to grant you to live past Emergence Day."

Shocked silence. The male interrupts, tone growing ever more dark and quiet.

"I'm not as retarded as some of the people revolving through your door. I hear a distinct _click_ of a tape recorder every so often. And knowing him, he'd want to _observe_ my case rather than rely on secondhand information."

A pause. Then the male erupts in a burst of fiery passion.

"So don't _fucking_ treat me like I'm delusional or have early on-set dementia! That seems to be something afflicting _you_ since you tend to ask the same questions over and over when you should know that _nothing's_. _Fucking. Changed_."

The woman remains silent. The man brightens imperceptibly, voice lowering while continuing with his scathing remarks.

"Back to my train of thought as to why this is a colossal waste of time. Why would anyone in their right mind ever go to _you_ to feel anything _but_ bad? You're more likely to encourage suicide than prevent it."

The woman appears to have recovered.

"Suicide?"

"Don't nit-pick the choice of word, Doc." The man sneers nastily. "I'm _intent_ on out-living you. And I love myself and my family too much to ever _think_ it."

"As charming a shit-stain as ever." She speaks, but her voice is subdued with anger and a touch of trepidation.

"Don't I know it." The man smoothly rolls over her retort as he continues. "What makes you qualified to even _pretend_ to be a shrink? The possible fact that you're the oldest individual with the most medical expertise? There might be Stranded with the same knowledge…and better bedside manner."

"You're an angry asshole, well on your way to having me kick your ass out of here thirty minutes early. That much is clear. But it's not your usual blunt gorilla-like manner. I hear an edge. Something _worse_. Damn near poisonous. I'm assuming you're projecting what you're feeling onto others, attempting to hurt them."

"Nah, Doc. I just really. _Really_. Hate you."

"Perhaps. It could be that you hate Marcus' absence even more."

Writing utensil scratching against a surface, most likely sheets of paper. A quiet cough every so often.

"…"

"Five minutes of silence. Impressive for you though it's unfortunate I had to break it. I really _don't_ want you to speak."

A heavy sigh.

"But it seems that I'm right, not that you'd admit it. How long has he been gone this time?"

"…"

Rustling papers followed by an unremarkable grunt.

"Hmph. I see that today marks it to be a month. The longest he's ever been away since settling on Azura. Clearly you're not taking it well."

"…"

"You can glare, pout, and hug yourself all you want. If I knew where he was, I would recommend that you see him _immediately_. I'd very much love to stop these sessions with you.

"And the next time you purposely miss one, I'll report it to the Chairman instead of covering for you. Just because it was Marcus' departure date does not mean that your responsibilities cease."

Tense silence. Then a chilling ire filled whisper.

"You. Just. Did."

A startling noise is heard, presumably a chair clattering against tile, heavy thuds, and papers rustling. Then a resounding slam as a door shuts, rattling its hinges. Finally, a shocked sigh.

"Doctor Isabel Hayman, 30th of Bounty, 24 A.E. Just finished an _early_ session with patient Damon S. Fenix, thank all deities. Mental state continues to deteriorate whenever he is apart from his husband. I have been unable to get to the root cause of the issue, which should be obvious due to our mutual hostility, but I believe that Marcus is part of it. Perhaps _he_ even knows but good luck with getting him to divulge anything.

"A few professional recommendations? One is to reduce stressors in Mr. Fenix's life to prevent a complete mental breakdown, including any activities on the Mainland that could be designated to another. The depressing state of New Jacinto would not aide him. Unfortunately, his child may be an additional one but seeing as I haven't made much progress with Mr. Fenix, that is currently an unknown.

"The second is limit Marcus Fenix's extracurricular activities. His new position is meant to be training a few military squads to defend Azura in case of emergency action. Either enlighten Mr. Fenix that his husband is now part of an elite spec ops program or remove the latter from it. Mr. Fenix has noted several times _loudly_ that it is strange for him to be away for an extended length of time when his duties require him to be on Azura.

"The third, which I _wholly_ encourage, is to find another pseudo-therapist for him, preferably stationed at Azura. His antagonistic nature towards me may be stifling his recovery. Or perhaps he's unwilling to release any information to someone he's not fond of. He grates on my nerves as well, the arrogant bastard. Looking into having Marcus and James be part of some sessions would help also.

"The fourth and final is that I would like to request a member of the re-established Onyx Guard to be present at Mr. Fenix's solo sessions from now on if I am to continue as his therapist. I'm sure you heard but just to make it clear, he has _completely_ rearranged my room.

"All of this should be taken into consideration or Mr. Fenix's condition will only worsen until he is unfit for duty. He may very well be considering what I have seen today. He seems very close to a break."

 _Click_.

* * *

 ** _Maelstrom Facility 4:30 p.m._**

Work usually served as a welcome distraction to his absence. Numerical figures, graphs, and various other diagrams floated around his head while he worked on numerous components, something he loved to do. The only downside was that he exerted extra effort to be immune to Levi Dullen's presence whenever the blond annoyance made an appearance.

But now…

Now everything ran together in a messy tangle. He couldn't decipher the simplest formulas and he'd rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands once too many to be believable. Baird mulled over for the thousandth time if love was worth all the heartache and pain that must be suffered. Or if Marcus ever felt like he did.

So he currently stared into space as he'd done for the past hour, ruminating on the same questions that plagued him consistently. His declining productivity would undoubtedly reach Hoffman's ears but he couldn't drudge up enough emotion to care.

Life. Work. Everything felt empty without him. At least he had J.D. But even _he_ was slipping from him due to Marcus.

* * *

 ** _The Annoying Old Bitch Who Should be Stuffed in a Shoe (J.D.'s Daycare) 5 p.m._**

For a few moments, he forgot about Marcus. It would riddle him with guilt later, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Maybe James could stay the night." Miss Ava's tone mimicked a reassuring but concerned elderly caretaker. Her cat like claws clutched his son's shoulders, anchoring him to her as she dug them in while exerting pressure…or was that a reassuring squeeze for the little boy? "What happened earlier could have been a traumatic experience for him and we wouldn't want that to happen again."

Baird dropped his gaze to settle on his son whose head remained slumped to the ground. He hadn't spoken or looked at him since the incident. He would have had a hard time believing the rascal that kicked and screamed against going here would choose to remain here on his own volition. He suspected that Miss Ava _persuaded_ him, since children his age were sponges: soaking and retaining information while accepting or adopting the moral stratagem and life styles of their trusted caretakers.

In essence, they were supremely susceptible to brainwashing.

 _Like hell he's staying here._ Baird bared his teeth slightly while narrowing his eyes. He hadn't been fond of sending J.D. here in the first place. He didn't like the thought of anyone else but his family raising his son and certainly not some stranger. And now she wanted to _keep_ him? His heart raced as he knelt before his son.

"J.D. Hey, buddy. Look at Daddy, would ya?"

But he refused, drawing the straps of his backpack tighter around his body. A trickle of annoyance swept through him. Now Baird thought that _possibly_ J.D. orchestrated the debacle. His son was a bright and a devilish prankster with the innocent countenance of a child. J.D. could have done this to rebel against him for making him go in the first place or guilt trip him.

A small smile threatened to break through at the thought. He let out an unsettling breath. "I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I'm sorry about sending you here too." He added with a pointed look at Miss Ava, her face contorting to a frown. "But what happened is something that Daddy's been dealing with for a while now, something he never wanted you to see because he didn't want to scare you."

That seemed to grasp his attention and J.D.'s head quickly flew up, fear rampant in his soft blue eyes as his face began to pinch. It revealed to him that his first inkling had been correct.

"You gonna go away like Daddy?" He squeaked out.

"What?" He quickly pulled his son away from the talons into his comforting arms, feeling the small trembling body and listening to the muted sobs. Running a hand along his back, he whispered in his ear. "No, kid. Not if I have anything to do about it."

His words didn't abate his son so he continued in a softer tone. "*Don't think like that J.D. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here for you. I love you. You know that."

"Eye wuv ewe too, Daddy." The muffled words were spoken against his shirt as he lifted J.D. up. "But wha' happ'n scare me."

"I'm sorry, kid. I promise to try to be better."

As the words fell forth, he pushed the antagonistic thought away that he could _promise_ anything he wanted, it meant naught if he couldn't make it true. And Baird didn't know if he had it in him to _be_ better without Marcus to encourage him.

He didn't extend a farewell to the hag, choosing to focus instead on brightening his son's countenance. As he regaled J.D. with a tall tale, a thought entered into his consciousness that would not drift away.

He knew that his breakdowns would only get worse to the point that J.D. would not be properly cared for. If Baird could barely cope with Marcus' absence now, what would happen to J.D. if something terminal happened to his lover?

* * *

 ** _Fenix Family Suite 9 p.m._**

Baird sighed as he turns off the light, encompassing the room in darkness.

J.D. was fast asleep in his room, snuggling with his frost-colored teddy bear he'd named _Sneu_ , one that Marcus had gifted him as a present on his second birthday.

He'd made a decision during dinner and told J.D. about it—he no longer had to go to Miss Ava unless if it was an emergency. Baird could work on deciphering Adam Fenix's and the other scientists' notes as well as other documents at home. He didn't need to be in the facility every damn day.

His son had been so ecstatic that he barely made a fuss when Baird shoveled peas into his mouth or when he bathed him for bed.

Was it selfish that he wanted to spend as much time with J.D. as possible before his psyche completely fractured? He wondered how long it would help his troubled mind if he simply remained in their suite with their son. How long would that hold him over?

He did what he did every night: stared at the cold empty spot that should be filled with a presence larger than his own until the pain manufactured inside him was too great and he felt just as _lost_ and devoid of any companionship as ever.

Then he turned away from the sight, gears clicking and whirring inside of his head as countless thoughts sifted through, troublesome—bothersome, _burdensome—_ feelings churning withinbefore he fell into a restless slumber.

* * *

 ** _3:28 a.m._**

Sometimes he stirred awake due to having felt incessant touches on his body. They were sometimes imagined caresses of his lover. At others it happened to be the man himself wanting to make love before daybreak due an unspoken _need_ of being inside of Baird, feeling his skin slide against him, his heartbeat synch with his, passionate breath crying out for him.

Though Baird loathed mornings, he didn't mind so much anymore due to the pleasantness of making love while barely awake.

He knew what it was this time though, angrily accepting those gentle brushes because avoiding them would only make him yearn for Marcus worse. Touches that felt _so real_ and ended up being mere phantasms.

"Why is this happening to me?" He breathed out, a small tortured sound escaping, shielding his eyes with his forearms. Those tactile sensations hesitated on his skin.

"I can't stop thinking about you." He shivered, tears threatening to seep from the corners of his eyes and creep towards his pillow. His voice broke. "It's making me crazy. Crazier than I am now."

Before, he would have thought himself as weak, breaking down due to the loss of his other half. Perhaps snorted in revulsion at the shell of a man he'd become.

But he couldn't let himself think that way nor go back to what he had been before. The man he truly pitied was the man he had once been: haughty, foolish, ignorant.

 _Alone_.

The last thought made him shiver uncontrollably. It was one thing that he would never be able to handle or stave off when faced: an ever-encroaching deep-seated terrible _loneliness_ that enclosed his entire being, slowly suffocating him until he slipped into interminable darkness.

"I can't take care of our son, not alone." He whispered into the room, each forced admission constricting his chest while blooming additional twinges of pain. "I can't focus on work. I become angrier and more hateful to anyone I can't stand. It's like you ruined my life but I can't live without you."

The lingering caresses disappeared and Baird expelled a pained gasp at their absence.

"I love you. _Fuck_ , I love you so much, Marcus. But I can _feel_ it. I can't keep doing this without you."

* * *

 ** _7 a.m._**

Sunlight filtered into the windows through the carpeted drapes but Baird didn't lift his eyelids. He felt mentally and physically exhausted, emotionally drained, and didn't have enough strength to pull himself out of bed.

He'd woken up to another day of miserable existence. Alone.

But he felt…warm. Sheltered. Comforted, almost.

He felt the spark ignite and didn't dare hope—he'd been tricked too many times already. But then the warmth shifted slightly, he let out a soft gasp of elation intertwined with longing.

He tensed, still not daring to believe—but there was that strong arm clasped around his waist, soft breaths tickling the back of his neck and gentle touches of lips every so often.

He brought his hand to hover over the one settled comfortably against his abdomen, his breath catching. Oh fuck, he didn't want this to be a vivid hallucination. His heart hammered against his chest while his breath shortened before he relented and intertwined their fingers.

Immediately, a sense of relief flooded over him, slight misery was overshadowed with joy, depicted in a gleeful chuckle.

Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of loving aqua-colored irises that contained a whirlwind of emotions…many mirrored in his own.

Their lips met moments soon after their gazes latched and Marcus leaned in, tentative and soft at first—a necessity for Baird to ensure that his lover had returned and wasn't merely a dream—but soon growing more needy and passionate, their morning breaths ignored.

"Missed you" was breathed between catches of air as Baird turned to face his lover, pushing himself more comfortably into Marcus, sliding their growing erections together. Now he gasped in pleasure while Marcus decorated his neck with love bites. He gently tugged on silver-lined hair as Marcus slowly tread a hand beneath his waistband, Baird assisting him with his own.

What he suffered, what he endured—all was naught when Marcus made his reappearance. And he needed to converse with his husband about the words spoken in the middle of night due to Baird's assurance that Marcus was sensory hallucination, about Miss Ava and Baird's decision, about J.D. and Doc Hayman.

But that all could wait until Marcus fixed him again.


End file.
